


we are only fated

by rories



Series: sifki week 2019 [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Revolution, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Non-Graphic Violence, Reincarnation, Time Travel, Violence, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rories/pseuds/rories
Summary: When he makes that first promise, so long ago, he doesn't realize that the universe is listening.  Over millennia and across oceans, Loki and Sif find each other again and again.





	we are only fated

**Author's Note:**

> y'all ever see that lois and clark episode where they find out lois and clark (a literal alien) have fallen in love and lost each other through various points in earth time???? that's this fic. 
> 
> a very loose interpretation of the time travel prompt lol. my history minor is in latin american history so please forgive me for any historical mistakes. and translations. i can only google so much. 
> 
> this is not the happiest fic i've ever written. if the thought of these two being torn apart makes you sad, please save yourself and don't read it. there is a hopeful ending but it is......it's sad, my dudes. i'm sad. 
> 
> please ignore that i've used this quote before lol

_“I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.” ― Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars_

The crack of the guard’s whip echoes through the streets where Loki walks, even as far away from the construction as he is. The sun is high in the sky as he travels quickly through the alleyways, ducking between stone buildings until he comes across the one he’s looking for. He’s thankful there is no one else on the streets as they would surely question why someone of his stature is down here. 

He tucks his robe tighter around him as he comes to the building he was looking for, rapping quickly on the stone doorway. “Sif!” he whispers harshly. Inside, he can hear a quiet exclamation followed by a muffled rustling before finally Sif appears. 

“You’re early,” she says, turning quickly back into the building, emerging again after only a second, bag in hand. 

“I was able to sneak away,” Loki says, smiling as she nears him. “We must hurry.” Even as he says it, he takes a moment to pull her close, pressing his lips hotly to hers almost desperately. 

“I’m ready,” she replies when he finally pulls away. Sif grabs his hand and pulls him back through the doorway and into the street, heading swiftly toward the edge of the city. They keep to the shadows of the buildings, only having to pause a few times when they heard movement around a corner. 

They’re almost to the edge of the city when the yelling starts. They can both hear the increase of footsteps and guards voices, so they pick up speed and Loki chances a look behind them. He can see the towering pyramids in the distance, large and imposing and one of the reasons why he’s trying to get Sif and himself out of here. 

“Stop! In the name of the pharaoh!” they hear from their left and Loki jerks Sif to the right between two homes. 

“You said you were able to sneak away!” she whispers, her breath coming fast as she tries to keep up with his long legs. 

“I may have had to do that by incapacitating a few of the pharaoh’s men,” Loki replies, casting a sidelong glance at Sif. He ignores the angry look she flashes him and continues pulling her through the city. “It was necessary, Sif.” He looks at her again, this time with fear and a hint of sadness. “He wasn’t going to let me go.” 

Sif’s grip on his hand tightens as she picks up her pace, letting him pull her along. The sound of guards is getting closer and her heartbeat ratchets up in her chest. 

And then stops completely when they turn the corner and come face to face with four guards, spears at the ready. She feels Loki turn to go back the other way and then stop just as quickly. She doesn’t need to look back to know they are surrounded, their grand escape thwarted at the last moment. 

She knows that this will be the last time she sees him alive and turns to clutch him to her. Her hands frame her face as she presses a desperate kiss to his lips. His hands grasp at her waist as he pulls her closer and they sob against each other’s mouths. 

“Whatever happens,” Loki starts, moving his hands to her face, “know that I have loved you with every part of me.” 

“I love you,” Sif says in response and then repeats it. “I love you.” The shadows of the guards are surrounding them now but she doesn’t take her eyes from him. 

He is jerked from her so harshly that it stings, both physically and emotionally. She tries to move toward him, an automatic and ultimately fruitless effort as a guard wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from moving. 

“I love you!” she calls out as Loki is dragged away, four guards working tirelessly to keep him from escaping again. 

He doesn’t say it back, but he doesn’t need to. Instead, he never lets his gaze leaves her, even as the distance grows between them. The last thing she ever hears from Loki is a frantic promise. “I will find you!”

*****

**February, 44 BC - Rome**

The clang of iron swords is loud even from the coliseum stands where Loki is seated near the dictator, Julius Caesar. These are Caesar’s games and as his advisor, Loki is required to be by his side. He can see down into the arena and watches the gladiators below for a moment. Right now it’s two large men, prisoners working for their freedom, though Loki knows that even if one survives, it’s not a guarantee that they will be granted their freedom. The people demand their sacrifices and Caesar will use what men he has to keep his people happy. 

Loki takes no joy in watching these games. The crowd around him cheers with every hit of the gladius’, but Loki is barely paying attention. He watches the fighting with a blank stare, clapping only when he thinks someone will comment on his lack of enthusiasm. 

The two gladiators fight with purpose and it takes several minutes for one to come out on top. With a final swing of his blade and the loud squelch of a blade leaving flesh, the crowd cheers again, a raucous noise that leaves Loki nauseous. 

“Excuse me, sir,” he mutters, but Caesar is not paying attention, so he takes a moment to sneak away. Loki knows the route down to the cells, has taken the same path with Caesar every time he comes to see the gladiators, but Loki also knows the secret paths in and out as well. It’s one of those tunnels he takes when he slips away from arena seats, walking quickly and confidently down the dirt path. 

The women gladiators are kept separately from the men and it doesn’t take him long to find the cell he’s looking for. The woman inside the cell is not as large as some of the other women she’s had to fight, but there is a strength in her build that has kept her alive longer than most. He only hopes that that strength keeps her alive today, for he has seen who she is up against and it makes his heart settle somewhere in his throat. 

“Sif,” he whispers as he gets closer to the cell, wrapping his fingers around the bars. The woman inside turns and rushes to the bars as soon as she sees him. Her eyes are bruised and there is a large cut along her jaw. She holds herself as of her ribs are injured and he can see the bruising all along one side of her. 

“Loki, you can’t be here!” she says harshly, even as she tangles her fingers with his around the bar. 

“I had to see you,” he replies. “I found out who you’re fighting today and I needed to see you. Sif…,” he trails off and drops his gaze. 

Through the bars of the cell, Sif’s hand rests over Loki’s heart. “I know, _mea vita_ , I know. But you must have faith.” 

He wants to believe in her words. As much as he has faith in _her_ , he does not have faith in the system that she is bound to. He’s not sure how he knows that this will be the last time he’ll see her, but there is an ache in his bones that he can’t shake. He rests his hand on hers on his chest and thinks back to when he first met her. 

She’d come to them with a debt to be paid and vow to make it worth their while should they accept her into the arena. She’d spoken with Caesar’s other advisors mostly, but he’d also listened in, immediately taken by the strong, confident woman who had stood in front of them. He wasn’t sure why, but Loki had felt that he’d known her his whole life, that a part of him that had been missing was finally found. 

It hadn’t taken him long to start sneaking into the holding cells, spending time with Sif and vowing to get her out of her contract. He’s offered to buy her out on several occasions, but she’d always pushed him away when he asked. It breaks his heart every time. Over the months that he’d spent with her, it had felt like finding home.

It’s what makes the current conversation so hard. “Sif, please,” he starts again, but she cuts him off. 

“Loki, I know what must be done. You know what I must do.” She takes a deep breath and curls her fingers around the fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer. “If the fight does not go my way, please, you must know. I have come to care for you greatly. More than I have cared about anyone. I never wanted to hurt you, you must realize that.” 

“I know, Sif. Please, let me appeal with the Caesar. Surely, if I offer to buy-” 

“No,” she says tightly. “The fight will happen.” She pulls him even closer than before, until they are face to face with bars on either side of them. “If I perish, know one thing. I love you.” Her voice chokes as she says it and he can see her eyes shining, threatening to spill over. He knows she will not let it happen; any sign of weakness going into the fight will surely spell her defeat. 

“I love you.” He says it forcefully, as if he knows it will be the last time he’ll say it. He wants her to know, that no matter what happens, she has his heart solely and completely. “It’s only you,” he says. 

“Te amo.” 

They both hear the footsteps of guards at the same time, but they don’t pull away for long moments. Loki takes a risk and presses his lips to hers through the bars, holding on to her for longer than is probably safe. 

“Te amo.” 

It’s painful on several levels to pull away from her, but Loki does, forcing himself not to look behind him as he walks down the tunnel. He nods at the guard when he turns the corner, but has to pause when he’s out of sight to lean against the wall. 

He hears the guard call Sif’s name and knows that it is time. He knows that he cannot watch, but he heads for the stands anyway. 

He needs to find Brutus. 

*****

**Summer, 17 AD - Greece**

Sif never tires of attending the Olympiad and she knows her time is running short on being allowed to actually attend. Her mother will surely push her into marriage before the next games, so she is going to enjoy this one while she can. 

She is excited to see the events, but if she’s being honest, the athletes are always the best part of the festival and she is keeping her eyes peeled for one in particular. 

The looming statue of Zeus is always a sight to behold and it casts a shadow across the stands that helps with the midday sun. Below them, the athletes are preparing for the dolichos, the last event before the closing ceremonies. Sif scans the group, looking for the dark hair and lithe body of a specific man. It has been years since she’s seen him, but she has no trouble remembering what he looks like. Pale skin and tight muscles, she remembers just how quick he is in the marathon. 

Her eyes dart from runner to runner until she finally sees him. It appears he’s looking for her as well and she watches for a moment, taking in his sharp features, before he finally catches her eye. The smile he shoots her is breathtaking and it makes her heart leap. 

Sif remembers the first time she saw him, during the games four years ago, and the way she’d felt like she’d known him her entire life. They had spoken easily and she had fallen quickly for him before they’d had to part, both of them heartbroken and trying not to make promises to each other. 

It doesn’t take her long to get to the edge of the stands, leaning over the edge and reaching her hand towards him. “Loki!” 

“Sif!” he says in reply, stretching his hand to her. She laughs with joy at seeing him, at the brief touch of his hand against hers. “My heart.” 

She says his name again, softer this time, but with just as much feeling. “I have missed you, my love.” 

“And I you.” His grip on her fingers tighten for just a moment. “I thought I might not see you.” 

“We missed the opening ceremonies and the first day of the festival,” she gives as an explanation. “I was worried I would not get to see you race.” 

“It is not much of a race. Thor is competing this year,” he says, jerking his head back to the other athletes. In the distance, she can see the blonde hair and large build of Loki’s brother. 

“You’ll do just fine, Loki,” Sif assures him. She gazes at him for a moment and she wishes they were closer, that she could run her fingers across her face. She watches as his face falls. 

“We are leaving after the race,” he says with a sigh. “No matter the outcome, Thor must return posthaste. Our father is...not well.” 

“Oh, Loki. I’m sorry.” Now she really wishes she could be closer to him, to pull him close in comfort. It takes a moment before the words sink in, but when they do, her heart sinks. 

“I will not see you for-” 

“I know. And I’m sure your mother will not-”

“She has already found someone.” 

Loki swallows hard before clearing his throat. “I’m sure it’s a good match,” he says. 

“I’m sure,” Sif replies, her voice full of derision. “But he will not be you.” 

From the field, they both hear the announcement of the race starting. “I have to go,” he says, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “Sif, I,” he starts before cutting himself off. She watches as he gathers his courage. “Se filō.” 

Sif wills away the tears that spring to her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I love you, Loki.” 

“We will find each other again someday,” he continues. “I promise you that.” He kisses her hand one last time before turning and joining the group. Her heart breaks with every step away from her that he takes, knowing that when he crosses the finish line at the end of the marathon, it will be the last time she sees him. 

*****

**April, 1775 - America**

The sun has only been down for a short time, but the night air is already getting cool. Loki should probably get up and close the window, but his new bride is pressed against him, skin to skin, and he has no desire to part from her. Besides, he can think of several ways to warm them up if need be. 

Loki runs a finger up and down the bare spine of his wife, utterly content with how his life had turned around. Meeting Sif had been life changing to say the least. He didn’t want to say it was love at first sight, but when he’d first laid eyes on her, it had felt like being whole. When her brother had given his blessing and Sif had said yes to being his wife, he was sure he’d never be happier. 

And now they are here, curled together under a blanket, the glint of metal on their fingers in the candlelight. 

“Husband,” Sif whispers into the night. 

“Wife,” Loki whispers back. The joy that simple word brings him has him flushing from head to toe and he pulls Sif closer to him, sliding his body against her and reveling in the fact that goosebumps spread across her skin. _He_ did that. _Him._ He has to kiss her immediately, so he does, taking her lips almost forcefully and cupping her cheek. 

Sif moves to settle over him, never pulling away from the kiss, and shivering when Loki run his hands down her shoulders and over her back. She presses herself against him when he pulls her closer, grinding against him and generally just enjoying the feel of skin against skin. They’ve already consummated their marriage tonight, but she’s keen to do it again. And again. And possibly one more time before morning. 

Loki has just started moving things along when she hears it. Over the sound of harsh breathing, the rapidly approaching sound of hoofbeats gets louder and louder in the open window. Sif hopes it’s just a neighbor on the way home, but the horse slows and then a loud knock sounds on their door. 

She sighs against Loki’s mouth and then pulls away. “Tell them to go away,” she says, pressing kisses down his jaw and to his neck. 

“You’ll have to get off of me, then, temptress,” he replies, his breath shuddering under her lips. Sif takes a few more minutes, but when another knock sounds, she finally pulls away. 

Loki pulls on a pair of sleep pants, slung low on his waist, and she waits for him to close the bedroom door before she stands and dresses herself, throwing a robe around her before stepping out into the main room. 

Sif wasn’t sure who she was expecting this late, but she doesn’t think it would be Thor. 

“- will arrive in Lexington by morning. We’re gathering as many men as we can find and riding out now. We could use your eyes.” 

“Thor, I cannot just drop everything -” 

“What’s going on?” Sif stands in the doorway, arms crossed, and if it were anyone but Thor, her dearest friend, she would be embarrassed by her state of undress. 

“Sif,” Thor says in a sharp greeting. “The British have arrived. Riders have just come through. We’re riding out as a militia and would like Loki to come with us.” 

Sif doesn’t say anything, but her brows furrow and her mouth turns into a frown. 

“We’re meeting at Fandral’s in an hour,” Thor continues. “If you are not there, Loki, I will understand. But this is for the colonies, for our people.” He gathers his hat from the table and nods to Sif before striding out the door. Sif can hear him mounting his horse and the rapid hoofbeats retreating in the direction of Fandral’s farm. 

“I don’t have to go,” Loki says, but makes no move toward her. “He’ll be disappointed, but -” 

“No, Loki, he’s right. The tyranny must end.” Sif takes a step toward her husband, running a fingernail over the ring that still feels foreign on her finger. “I will help you gather your things.” 

Loki meets her in the middle of the room and gathers her against his chest. “I will return to you,” he whispers into her hair. “I will always return to you.” 

“There are some promises that are not meant to be kept, Loki,” Sif says, looking up at him. 

“But this one is.” He leans down and kisses her soundly. It feels like a kiss goodbye and Sif has to hold back the tears and frustration. She had just found him and now he was going off and she fears she might lose him. Even if he came back from this battle, she felt on the horizon the potential of a war. A war that she knew he would have to fight in and one that would surely take him from her. 

“I love you,” she whispers into his chest. 

“I love you, my wife,” he returns and then releases her to continue dressing. It doesn’t take long to gather his things and then he is mounted on his horse. Sif curls her fingers around his pant leg as she says her goodbyes, tucking a kerchief into his saddle bag. 

“For luck,” she says up at him. 

Loki leans down and runs a hand over the planes of her face, committing her to memory. He grabs her hand and kisses her fingers and says the last lie he’ll ever tell her. “I will return.” 

*****

**Fall, 1918 - France**

The gunshots over the horizon finally slow and it isn’t long before an officer comes in to tell them the Germans have started moving away. The nurses in the makeshift hospital know that it’s only a matter of time before they get an influx of patients, so many of them grab water and start sharing rations. They’ll need the energy when they’re running around helping the doctors patch wounds and decide who lives and who dies. 

Just the thought of that makes Sif want to vomit, so instead she finds a quiet corner and pulls out her locket. Popping it open, the face that greets her never fails to make her smile. Sharp nose and even sharper eyes, but he’s the most handsome man she’s ever seen, even in a small, black and white photo shoved haphazardly in a silver locket. 

Sif remembers the day they’d said goodbye and swallows hard. She’d technically left first, nurses having been called to the front lines before his unit, so he’d walked her to the train station and told her to be careful. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Loki had said, holding both of her hands in his. One of his fingers plays with the ring he’d given her last night, a silver band to match her grandmother’s necklace and a small diamond in the middle. It had probably cost him more than he had and she definitely shouldn’t be wearing it across the ocean, but she wanted a reminder of his promise to her. 

“I think that’s my line,” she had replied, moving one of her hands to brush imaginary dirt from his lapel. Any excuse to touch him, really. “Anyway, I’ll be safe and sound in the hospital. It’s you I worry about.” 

“I’ll be alright,” he’d muttered, letting his hands wander to her back. “I made you a promise. We’ll see each other again.” He’d pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. They’d only had a few moments before the train whistle sounded and she had to board to find her seat. When she had, she’d immediately leaned out the nearest window, reaching for Loki below her. 

“Write me every week,” she’d said, running her fingers through his hair. “Let me know you’re okay.”

“Of course,” he’d replied, pulling her hands from his head to press kisses to her fingers. The train whistle had sounded again, and with a loud noise, started pulling away from the station. Loki had followed the train as far as he could, but when it picked up speed and there was no longer a platform for him, she’d been forced to watch him disappear from her view. 

And now she’s here, preparing for the arrival of soldiers just like him, bloodied and covered in wounds that she sometimes can’t help. 

Loki’s letters had been coming pretty regularly until a month ago, but she hadn’t had time to worry about with the influx of wounded soldiers from the frontlines coming in. She tries to remember what he’d said in his last one and plans out what she wants to say in her reply when there is a shout near the front and a flurry of activity begins. 

Some of the soldiers are able to walk in on their own, their wounds minor, but others are being supported by their fellows, blood trickling from heads and arms and faces. She helps some of the other nurses direct the non-emergency cases to the sides of the building to make room for the more badly wounded soldiers that are coming in. 

Four or five come in at once, carried by members of their units on makeshift gurneys, their medics pressing bloodied cloth to their wounds. Doctors jump in and direct them to tables already barking orders to the nurses around them. 

One of them grabs her on her way to grab more bandages, telling her sharply to keep pressure on a soldier’s leg wound. The soldier is young, probably still in his teens, and judging from the amount of blood still pulsing out from under her hand, isn’t going to make it. Still, it’s not her call to make, so she presses harder and tries not to think about the gurgle of pain he lets out when she does. 

The room is chaos for awhile, Sif jumping from doctor to doctor to help as she can, but eventually it starts to slow. She grabs a spare surgical kit and is on her way back to start stitching up some of the less worrying patients when someone grabs her hand. 

She can’t help but jerk away, but turns toward the patient to see what they need. She’s expecting to see another young man asking for water or meds, but instead she sees Loki. 

Her kit falls to the floor as she follows, dropping to her knees next to his makeshift bed. “Loki!” she cries, running her hands over him. His face is filthy with dirt and blood, his hair caked in it, and she immediately starts to clean him off. “Loki, what-” 

“Sif,” he croaks out, his grip weak as he grabs for her hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“What?” she starts but her voice catches when her fingers travel down his chest and come away sticky. “No,” she bites out and then repeats it over and over, moving his already loosened clothing away. There’s less blood than she would have thought for the massive wound in his chest and she doesn’t want to think about what that might mean. 

She can’t help but look over the rest of his body, both hoping and not hoping she’ll find a diagnosis tag. She does though, tied to his ankle, one of the few places not soaked in blood. What she reads makes her blood run cold and she moves back to his head. 

“Loki,” she chokes out. “Please.” 

It looks like it takes him every ounce of strength he has left in his body to reach up and cup her cheek. “Sif,” he whispers. “My sweet Sif.” 

“No,” she says again. “You promised.” She mirrors his movement, cupping his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. She can feel her heart shattering as she watches him fade away from her and it feels like she’ll never be whole again. 

“I’m glad I got to see you again.” 

She feels the hot tears trail down her cheeks and his stuttered movement to try and brush them away. Even as he lay dying he is trying to comfort her. The silly, stubborn man. Doesn’t he know that she will never be happy again? 

Sif leans forward, not caring that other nurses are watching, some with their own tears falling, and presses a kiss to his chapped lips. He tastes like blood and dirt and sweat, but underneath it all is him. She kisses him again and again, mindful of his injuries and the fact that his reciprocation is slowing. 

She feels his heartbeat under her hand, feels the beats come farther and farther apart. She feels one beat and holds her breath waiting for the next, her forehead pressed to his. Her sobs fill the hospital when the next doesn’t come. 

*****

**Present Day - Norway**

When Odin had told him that he’d hired a new bodyguard for him, Loki had expected a large, burly man, not unlike his brother. He’d thought it would be someone broad and muscular who would always be in his way whenever he tried to go anywhere. 

What he gets is...decidedly not that. The woman who stands in his doorway looks strong, for sure, but the kind of strength that hides in corded muscles and a fierce stare. Her hazel eyes strike him first, bright compared to her dark hair and pale skin. Also because they squint at him as he leans against the doorframe. 

“Are you...Loki Odinson?” she asks and something in his belly swoops at her gravelly voice. If he’s not careful, he’s going to have to leave her in his open door while he excuses himself to the bathroom. 

“I am. You must be Sif?” His father had given him the bare minimum of information, as he usually does, but he still remembers her name and general description. 

Sif just nods and then leans all her weight on one hip. “Can I come in or am I to watch after you from the hallway.” 

“Well, you’ll get paid either way, but you’ll be more comfortable inside, I’m sure.” He moves to the side, but not out of the doorway and has to suppress a shudder when she brushes against him on her way inside. There is something oddly familiar about this woman, but Loki can’t seem to put his finger on it.

When he turns from shutting and locking the deadbolts his father had insisted on having installed, she’s looking around his apartment with interest. It must seem unlike him, or at least the public persona of him. He knows that everyone sees the spoiled rich kid he’d grown up as, so the large abstract paintings, mismatched furniture, and historic artifacts must come as a shock. 

He watches her for a moment as she looks around, pays attention as she runs her fingers over the poster of the Pyramids of Giza. He watches closely as she studies the replica gladius set on a bookshelf followed by his amphora depicting long distance runners. She seems enthralled as she continues, moving closer to get a look at his collection of coins from the American Revolution and a worn looking helmet from World War I. 

“Quite the collector,” she says after looking over his vast array of books as well. 

“What can I say? They spoke to me.” 

“You’re not what I expected,” she says suddenly, cocking her head to the side. “Your father made it sound like you could hardly take care of yourself.” 

“Yes, well. My father is often wrong about me.” He turns and heads to the kitchen and she can hear him opening cabinets and getting something from the refrigerator. When he finally returns, he’s got two glasses of water and she finds she’s not shocked by him anticipating her needs. 

Their fingers brush as he hands her the glass and she sucks in a sharp breath at the contact. Since he’d opened the door to her, there had been something in her mind whispering that she knew him from somewhere. She wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but there was something about him that awakened a part of her she’d never felt before. 

She looks up from their hands, still suspended between them, sharing the glass, and catches his eye. She’ll deny later that her heart had started beating faster, but there is no denying the flush that creeps across her face. 

“Are you sure I don’t know you from somewhere?” he asks, finally pulling his hand away, trusting her to keep a hold of the cup. 

She smiles, wide and more in control now that they’re no longer touching. “You know, I was going to ask the same thing about you?” 

The smile Loki shoots back at her is bright and it’s almost like she’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry, i can't help but make loki an artist it's a sickness


End file.
